Harlequin Dreams
by chunkeymonkey
Summary: A Chlark story set in high school. Silliness and heaving bosoms abound!
1. Chapter 1

Chloe curled up against the window and buried herself in a book as the Smallville High school bus jostled back and forth down the bumpy dirt road. Her fingers ran down the battered spine of the paperback and she flipped to the next page eagerly. Suddenly there was an extra violent bump—something slamming up against the back of her seat—that tossed her forward. "Hey guys, could you please try and _not _kick the back of my seat?" She demanded, looking over her shoulder to see both Pete and Clark's heads pop up above her, like one of the wack-a-mole games at the local arcade.

"Sorry." They said in unison, trying their best to look apologetic.

"I was just showing Clark this cool headlock move I saw on Smackdown last night."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Fine, but I'm trying to read here and it's hard enough without you two knocking me around." She turned her attention back to the book clutched in her hand and smiled impishly. "Oh, you do know that's not _real _by the way? It's all choreographed." She heard Pete gasp in fake surprise and she found herself laughing softly as Clark stood up and slid into the empty seat beside her.

"Whatcha' reading?" He asked, reaching out to flip around the cover. Chloe quickly pulled it away from his grasp and held it tight to her chest. "Is it one of the books on the freshman reading list? I haven't even started any of them yet."

"Umm," Chloe mumbled, stalling for a moment as she snapped the book shut and reached for her book bag. "Yeah. Uh, it's _Romeo and Juliet_."

"Oh."

A split second later Pete's arm shot over the back of her seat and he lunged for the book, snatching it away before she could stash it in her bag. He stuck out his tongue and waved it just out of her reach, taunting her. "_Somebody _sounds suspicious. Let's see what she's _really _reading!"

"Pete! Give it back!"

Pete's eyes lit up as he scanned the cover. "Uh oh." He smirked.

"Pete." Chloe said threateningly. "Give it back."

He ignored her and spoke in a high-pitched female voice. "Oh Fabio! Fabio! Wherefore art thou Fabio!" He broke into raucous laughter and Clark looked back and forth between them in confusion.

"I don't get it."

Pete stopped to catch his breath. "Chloe's reading a..." He paused dramatically before turning the book around for both to see. "A _dirty _book!" There staring back at them was the tattered cover of a romance novel. It's shiny surface was covered in tiny cracks and the faded illustration of a well muscled man clutching a beautiful, busty woman in a suggestive embrace, looks of ecstasy on their faces. "_The Pastures of Passion._" Pete read out loud, his voice deepening. "_A spirited daughter of a wealthy farmer embarks upon a steamy, tumultuous love affair with a handsome young farmhand."_

Chloe felt her cheeks begin to burn and launched herself over the seat. She pried the book from his hands and smacked him over the head with it.

"Sit down back there!" The bus driver yelled, her hawk-like stare reflecting back at them in the rear view mirror.

Chloe sunk back into her seat, a scowl on her face. "I knew you guys would act this way if you saw me reading this." She moaned, tossing it into her bag and zipping it shut. "Boys are so immature."

"Hey, I didn't say anything!" Clark protested, looking slightly hurt.

"Yeah, but I can see it in your eyes."

Clark laughed nervously. "It's just that those books are so, so..."

"_Cheesy_." Pete interjected proudly. "Pure cheese. One-hundred percent cheese."

"I get it." Chloe muttered, crossing her arms in a huff. After a moment she cocked her head to the side, giving them both a pointed look. "And so what if it's cheese? Maybe some of them are, but so what? There fun, and many people happen to enjoy them."

Pete snorted loudly. "Yeah—people like _you_."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?"

The bus began to slow to a crawl as it turned a corner and stopped a few seconds later on a street surrounded by a cornfield. "You guys coming over to study for the test?" Clark asked as he stood up and gathered his things. The doors to the bus swung open and the bus driver watched him intently as Clark lingered in the aisle.

"Yeah." Chloe nodded, grabbing her things. Pete nodded as well and the three hurried off. After the bus had turned the corner, leaving them to walk the long expanse of gravel driveway towards the Kent farm, Chloe once again brought up the subject they had been discussing. "So, what did you mean by _people like you_?" She asked, tossing her book bag over her shoulder.

"Nothing really." Pete shrugged, kicking at the stones littering his path. "Just that the only people that _enjoy _those types of books are people like you..."

"Do you mean it's a _chick _thing?" Chloe cut him off.

"Uh oh." Clark said, his voice full of warning. "Pete I don't think it's a good..."

"Well, yeah." Pete said, ignoring Clark. "There's nothing in those books that would remotely interest a _man_." His chest puffed up slightly and he started to swagger a bit as he spoke. "Not unless they got sports stats in there somewhere."

Chloe shook her head in disgust and watched as Pete took off a few steps ahead of them, rushing up to meet Shelby who had ran off the porch to meet them. "Can you believe that?" She asked as the two continued on towards the barn, watching Pete play with Shelby.

"I think he has a point." Clark said cautiously as he held open the barn door and let Chloe pass.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah." Clark climbed behind Chloe as they ascended the stairs to the loft. "They just seem to be more appealing to women is all Pete meant. Guys like sports, girls like romance. Or, whatever." He blushed, tossing his bag onto the floor and flopping down onto the couch.

Chloe scoffed. "So there's nothing at all in a romance book that would," Chloe paused as she perched herself on the edge of the coffee table. "Peak your interest?" She said the words slowly and locked eyes with him as she smirked.

Clark suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Um, well, I..."

"Hold on." Chloe laughed, reaching for her book bag. "I don't want you to have a coronary or anything, but here," She unzipped the top and pulled out the book. "Tell you what. Why don't you actually _read_ the book before passing judgment on it?"

Clark squirmed as she placed it face up beside him. "Me? Why not make Pete read it? He was the one who was riding you about it."

"Oh don't be such a baby." Chloe laughed. "Besides, this stuff is _tame_ compared to others I've read in the past."

"But Pete..."

She shook her head and pulled out her textbooks, spreading them across the table. "Come on Clark." She pleaded. "You know how annoyingly persistent I can get when I am trying to prove a point."

"And the point is?"

"That romance books aren't just for chicks."

"And that Pete is wrong?"

Chloe smiled brightly. "Yeah. That too."

"Fine." Clark groaned. He picked up the book and thumbed through the pages, sending them rippling. "But you owe me."

Chloe got up and sat down beside him on the couch. "There, now was that so hard?" She asked, slapping him playfully on the knee. "I expect a full book report on my desk by Friday." Suddenly Pete came bounding up the stairs to the loft and Clark thrust the book quickly under a pillow. Chloe rolled her eyes. "So, shall we get started on reading the book then?" She asked loudly. Clark's head whipped around in surprise and Chloe calmly reached for the table, lifting up one of her textbooks. "Our history book—for the test." She smirked. "What did you think I meant?"

Clark shot her a look and sunk back into the couch, burying himself in his history book and letting out a sigh of relief.


	2. Chapter 2

"Alright," Pete said, yawning and snapping his textbook shut. "I've had enough of the Axis and Allies for tonight. I think I'm gonna take off." He stood up and gathered the rest of his belongings. The afternoon had now turned into evening, and the three had easily been studying for over three hours. "Can I use your phone to call for a ride?"

"No need." Chloe said, still scribbling furiously in her notebook. "I told my Dad I'd be over Clark's after school to study. He should be coming anytime now." She glanced at her watch. "You can ride with us." As if on cue, a car horn blared from below and Chloe slid off the couch, grabbing her book bag. "Speak of the devil." She quipped.

"Alright," Clark yawned. He helped Chloe gather her things and walked them towards the top of the stairs. "Thanks for the cram session guys. I think I actually have a chance of passing this test tomorrow."

Pete nodded his head groggily and started down the stairs. "No prob Clark. See ya tomorrow."

Chloe followed, but halfway down she stopped and lingered, smiling back at him. "I hope you're still up for a little _recreational_ reading tonight?" She asked. Pete turned at this and shot them a bewildered look. "Remember," Chloe continued in a whisper after Pete had returned to descending the stairs. "Give it a chance. It's not as bad as Pete makes it out to be."

Clark nodded, turning back toward the couch to see the bent corner of Chloe's book poking out from underneath the couch pillow, calling to him. "I'll try." He shrugged.

"Good." She smiled and flounced down the stairs victoriously.

Clark heard the barn door slam as they left and he begrudgingly pulled the book from its hiding spot. He didn't have any real inclination to ever read such a book, nor did he have any desire to be mocked mercilessly by Pete for doing so. He knew what was in these types of books—all aching loins and heaving bosoms—and frankly, it made him quite uncomfortable. But he had promised Chloe he would, and he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he chickened out.

So with a sigh of resignation, he switched on the nearest lamp and sprawled out on the couch, ready to read his first ever romance novel. He flipped to the back cover. "_In Turn of the Century __Iowa__, the corn runs high and the passions run higher." _He read out loud the first sentence of the summary and snorted with laughter. "Oh what have I gotten myself into?" He sighed. "Oh well, at least its good for a laugh."

He then flipped it over and studied the front cover for a moment. The man and woman on the cover were embracing—or more like she was climbing up his leg—looking at him lustfully as she clenched the edges of his shirt, which was conveniently torn open to reveal his bronzed chest. And even though it looked as if they were inside some sort of barn, their hair was waving from some inexplicable breeze. It was the cheesiest thing Clark had ever seen. "100 cheese." He said out loud as he flipped to the first chapter and read silently.

_"Eloise LeBrawn was a proper gentleman's daughter by all accounts. After all, it would be most scandalous for one of the town's most respectable—and not to mention wealthiest—farmer's daughters to have anything but a sterling reputation. So young Eloise, a stunning blonde beauty of only eighteen, followed all the conventions of a proper young lady. She attended a prestigious finishing school, attended teas and society parties with all the fashionable members of __Littleton__ society. But lurking underneath all the appearance of propriety was a feisty, hot-blooded woman who wanted more than anything to break free from the constraints of her upbringing, and live a life of passion and excitement."_

Clark chuckled as he flipped to the end of the book, his eyes scanning the bottom of the page. "Five-hundred and twenty pages!" He groaned, and settled himself into the couch, propping a pillow behind his head. "I can do this. I can make it through." He chanted and flipped back to the beginning and continued to read.

_"Eloise was perched on the chaise lounge, absorbed in a book whilst Mertle—the LeBrawn's maid—poured her a fresh glass of lemonade and set out an elaborate display of petit fours and finger sandwiches. "Who is that, in the field there?" She asked as she lifted the ice cold glass to her cherry lips. She pointed towards a strapping young man several yards away who was tossing bales of hay into the back of a cart. His shirtless torso was darkly bronzed from the intense summer sun, and Eloise was entranced by the rippling of his muscles as he moved. _

_"That one there? The youngin' wit' tha' black hair?" Mertle asked as she arranged the delicate finger sandwiches on their silver tray. "I dunno his name yet. Is a new farmhand ya' fatha' hired tha' other day."_

_"Well, we must remedy the situation." She purred and stood up abruptly. "It's about time someone found out his name. So we can be properly introduced." Her eyes flashed wildly and she sauntered out into the dusty yard, her long lace skirt swooshing behind her. _

_She approached the young man, who was bent over a mountain of hay, and admired the broadness of his tan back before she spoke. "Ahem." The man turned his head slowly; his piercing blue eyes met hers and sent shivers down her spine. "Hello. My name is Eloise—Mr. LeBrawn's daughter—I just wanted to introduce myself." She stuck out her hand and he gripped it tentatively; his hand was calloused and rough, and big enough to swallow her tiny one completely. "I don't believe I've seen you around here before." _

_"Just came into town Miss, about a month ago."_

_"Uh huh." She nodded, still admiring his physique. "And your name is?" _

_"Andrew. Andrew Baker." _

Clark flipped the pages dutifully, looking out of the corner of his eye towards the clock mounted on the far wall. It was almost seven o'clock, and surprisingly he was further along in the book than he thought he would have been. Truth be told, he imagined he would have given up completely around page two, but he had surprised himself and he kept on reading.

_Eloise guided her steed in through the open stable doors to take cover from the sudden downpour. Her clothes were stuck to her flesh, clinging in such a way that left little to the imagination. "Woah boy, woah!" She said softly as she stroked her steed's mane; the booming thunder had sent it into a tizzy. It began to whinny loudly and stomp its feet, spinning around in circles. "Calm down boy—it's just the thunder." She pleaded, her fear growing with each agitated movement of the horse. She had never seen him react in such a manner, and she was at a loss to calm him._

_Suddenly there was the sound of muffled footsteps upon the dirt ground. The horse rose up sharply and Eloise clenched the rains tightly with her trembling hands and squeezed its flanks with her thighs to keep from sliding to the ground. _

_"Sssshhh." A deep voice said. "It's alright. It's alright." The voice repeated over and over in a soothing tone. The horse slowly began to lower its front feet to the ground and Eloise opened her eyes—which she had clenched tight—to see none other than Andrew the farmhand standing before her, stroking the horse's face. She had not seen him in what felt like ages—but he was still as handsome as she'd remembered. _

_"Thank you." She said breathlessly. "I believe you just saved my life." _

_"It's nothing Miss." _

_"No," She insisted, staring deep into his brilliant blue eyes. "I owe you a debt of gratitude. Name your price—anything." _

_For a moment he was silent, his gaze lingering dangerously over the curves of her body that had been accentuated by the rain. Eloise felt his eyes travel over her and felt herself grow warm despite the seasonal chill in the air. _

_"It's alright Miss." He replied. "You owe me nothing—your thanks is enough." _

" Clark? Are you still studying?"

Clark heard his mother's voice echo up the stairs and he snapped the book shut quickly, tucking it under his back and grabbing his History book from the end table. He looked back at the clock to see it was now well past eight. He hadn't a clue he'd been reading for so long, the time just seemed to slip away. "Uh, yeah Mom. Just studying for my History test." He lied.

"Oh." Martha appeared at the top of the stairs, holding a tray in her outstretched hands. "I brought you some dinner. I thought you might be hungry."

The smell of fried chicken filled the room and Clark tossed the History book aside, his belly growling. "Thanks." He said as she placed it in front of him.

"Alright," She continued, turning back for the stairs. "I'll leave you be, but just promise me you won't stay up all night, okay?"

"Sure Mom."

Martha smiled and headed back down the stairs. When Clark heard the barn door slam he grabbed his plate and flopped back onto his pillow, sticking a drumstick into his mouth and pulling Chloe's book out from under him. He flipped back through the book leaving greasy fingerprints smeared across the page.

_The party was just as lively as ever—filled with music, laughter, and all of __Littleton__'s most respectable society. It was everything Eloise hated—stuck up snobs with big pocketbooks and even bigger senses of entitlement—all bragging away about their latest accomplishments or newest acquisitions. It was, in fact, during one of those conversations that Eloise had snuck out of the hot, stuffy room and onto the back porch. It was cooler outside, and the black sky was filled with millions of stars. Eloise thought she would much rather spend the evening looking to the heavens and dreaming about all of life's possibilities than making small talk in some parlor. _

_"Whatcha' looking at?" A voice asked from out of the darkness. _

_Eloise squinted, looking past the glimmering lights coming from the parlor windows, until she saw a familiar face come into view. "Andrew!" She exclaimed, lifting up her skirt and practically jumping off the porch into his arms. "I thought you had left?" She said, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "You told me you were leaving town when the harvest was done." _

_"I know," He said, looking down into her eyes, his voice raspy. His hands traveled down to her hips where they held her tight to him. "But something was telling me I should stay."_

_Eloise felt him pull her closer, until their bodies felt like one. He bent down and kissed her hard, his lips scorching hers with the intensity of his passion. "Oh Andrew!" She moaned softly, as he kissed down her neck. "I've waited so long for this." She gripped his shirt, pushing him away just enough to look into his eyes. "Make love to me." _

Clark yawned as he turned the page. His eyes were growing heavy and as he looked at the clock—now nine forty-five—he considered giving the book a rest for the night. He had plowed through several chapters despite himself—and although he would never admit it to a single soul ever—he had kinda wanted to find out what happened next. And as he lay, sprawled across the couch, empty dinner dish still perched on his stomach; he decided maybe he'd go ahead and read one more chapter before he called it a night.

Or maybe two.

Three—tops.

_The sun was just beginning to set, its amber rays dancing through the cornstalks as they swayed in the breeze, giving off a magical light display. "Come on Eloise!" Andrew called, running after her through the field. "You can't run away forever!" _

_"No," She said devilishly, whipping her head around to tease him. Her golden ringlets flew into her eyes, and she brushed them aside with a girlish giggle. "But if you catch me, I promise to give you a special reward." Her eyes twinkled seductively, and that was all the encouragement Andrew needed. Taking a few longer strides, he caught up to her in mere seconds and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to a sudden stop. "I win." He proclaimed, pulling her into him and kissing her passionately. _

_"It took you too long." She pouted, her cheeks flushed. _

_"Oh, so you weren't giving your all then?" _

_"Of course not. I wanted you to catch me." Eloise smirked. _

_Andrew twirled a golden ringlet around his finger. "Oh, Eloise—the silly little games you play." He let the curl go with a bounce and then took the finger to her lips, tracing them delicately. "But I know of something that is a lot more fun." He smiled wickedly and brought his hand down to the top of her blouse where he played with the ivory buttons. _

_"Are you sure we're alone?" Eloise whispered, looking at him expectantly. _

_"Positive." _

_One by one he flicked open the buttons with the greatest of ease, his eyes following the trail of newly exposed flesh as he worked lower and lower. Suddenly his lips came crashing down upon her and she closed her eyes—reeling from the sensation. She opened her mouth to call out his name when she heard the crunch of footsteps up the path. "Andrew!" She exclaimed, jerking herself away from him and clasping her open blouse shut. "Someone's coming!" _

_Suddenly there was the sound of dogs barking and the glow of a lamp as someone cut through the filed, headed straight towards them. _

_"Eloise?" A gruff voice called. She looked up and saw her father coming toward them, flanked by his two dogs. "I've been looking all over for you." He paused for a minute, realizing she was not alone. "Eloise, I do not think it's proper for a young lady to be out so late in the company of a man without a chaperone." He paused yet again as his eyes washed over the both of them—taking in everything from their mud soaked clothing to their flushed, shaken appearance, and Eloise's hands as they clasped tightly around her undone blouse. _

_Immediately it sunk in and his face grew red with rage. "Why you scoundrel! You thieving scoundrel!" He bellowed, charging toward him, with his fists raised. "How dare you violate my daughter!" _

_"But Sir—Sir!" _

_"No Father! Stop! We are in love!" _

_Eloise's Father stopped in his tracks long enough to bark in her direction. "Love? Ha! Eloise, you silly little girl—he is nothing but a farmhand! You know nothing of his family or of his breeding!" His menacing glare once again turned back to Andrew. "You scoundrel." He growled, once again raising his fists. _

_"No!" Eloise threw herself in front of Andrew, her tiny, slip of a frame the only thing standing between Andrew and certain death. "Breeding?" She snapped, her voice resentful. "You speak of him as if he was like one of your precious dogs!" _

_"Step away Eloise!" _

_"No Father! I love him! We will be together—and there's nothing you can do to stop me!" _

Clark opened his eyes slowly when he heard the squeak of footsteps on the floorboards next to him; his head was spinning and the whole room seemed dark and fuzzy except for a bright beam of sunlight directed into his eyes. He yawned; he couldn't believe he had fallen asleep out in the loft and slept till morning. He didn't know why his Mom hadn't come and woken him up. "Mom, is that you? Am I late for school?" He asked groggily.

The bright sunlight was still streaming down, obscuring his vision, and he blinked a few times before he made out a shadowy figure looming over him and heard a familiar voice.

"Good morning."


	3. Chapter 3

"What time is it?" Clark asked, rubbing his eyes to shield them from the glare of the sun. The shadowy figure knelt down beside him and ran a hand softly down the side of his face.

"It's six in the morning. The first train leaves in an hour. If we leave now we can be miles away before my father suspects a thing."

"What?" Clark asked, not sure he had heard correctly. "I don't understand what..." Clark stopped mid sentence . The sun had now been blocked by a passing cloud, leaving him a full view of who was next to him. He saw Chloe kneeling beside him and felt his jaw go slack. She was clutching a tapestry covered bag and dressed in a floor length blue dress—the likes of which he had only seen in the movie Titanic—with a high necked button collar, lacy puff sleeves and a white, wide brimmed hat upon her head.

"Are you alright? You look ill, shall I fetch the doctor?"

"No—I—uh." Clark stammered, taking in all of her. "What are you wearing?" He pushed himself upwards and felt something crunchy underneath his hands. He whipped his head around quickly, taking in his surroundings. "What the hell is going on?" Everything from the loft was gone, instead replaced by mountains of hay in which Clark had been sprawled out on. "Where's the couch?" He asked. "Where's all my stuff?"

"A couch in the _barn_?" Chloe laughed, eyeing him strangely. "Are you sure you are alright? You're acting quite strange. Are you sure I needn't fetch the doctor?"

"No. No." Clark shook his head, which was now beginning to hurt. None of this was making any sense. This was either the strangest prank ever, or he was dreaming. Either way, it was odd to say the least. "I'm fine."

"Good." Chloe smiled. "I don't want anything to ruin this day." She leaned in close and closed her eyes. "The day we can finally be together, free from my father's tyranny at last." Before Clark could react her lips were upon his and she had pulled him into a tender kiss. His eyes fluttered shut and for a moment—despite the strangeness of it all—he hoped that _this_ was not a dream. In fact, the kiss felt _so_ real it couldn't be a dream. "Shall we get going then?" She asked breathlessly as she pulled away from him, nodding toward her suitcase.

"Go where?"

"To Des Moines." She said, eyeing him strangely.

"Okay Chloe, what is going on here? Is this why you insist I read the book? So you could pull some sort of crazy prank on me?"

Chloe's eyes narrowed and she stood up, lifting her skirt to reveal a white petticoat as she gave the ground a good stomp with her black boot. "Who is Chloe?" She spat. "My name is Eloise." She stated firmly, anger straining her voice. She jutted out her hip, placing her hand upon it and looking at him impatiently.

"Eloise?" Clark croaked weakly. He studied her face; her eyes were as cold as steel and her lips set in a scowl. Maybe it _was_ a dream after all. Either that, or Chloe had gone completely insane. But his vote was on it being a dream.

"I should have listened to my father." She snapped. "You are nothing but a scoundrel—seeing another woman behind my back! How dare you Andrew!" She whipped off her hat and swat at him with it, revealing a shock of blonde ringlets framing her face. "And after all I was willing to give up for us!"

Yep—definitely a dream. Suddenly everything seemed to make sense. Clark was dreaming he was in Chloe's romance novel. He was Andrew, the handsome farmhand in _Pastures of Passion, _and Chloe was Eloise, the feisty tempered heroine. Boy was she ever. This must have been the part of the book he'd been reading before he fell asleep. They had made a plan to run away together to defy her father. And now he was living—er, dreaming—about what was to happen next.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Chloe asked, hitting him once again with her hat. "Do you even wish to claim innocence?"

Clark had no idea what to say, but fearing the wrath that had been building in her eyes; he felt he had to try. "I, um, I'm innocent of these _most scandalous charges_." He proclaimed, trying his best to sound like his character. "Chloe is nothing. No one. Nobody." He grabbed her hand reassuringly. "I love only you."

"Oh." She said softly, her cheeks beginning to flush.

Clark exhaled. She had been pretty easy to convince—_very_ easy.

Chloe knelt down beside him again and inched closer. "I'm sorry I acted so silly. I know you love me, and that you would never betray our love." She ran her hands up his chest, stroking his shirt. "And now _I'll_ prove to _you _thatI'll never betray our love."

"What, I, uh," Clark stuttered, his eyes growing wide as she reached up with one hand to pop the buttons of his shirt, the other hand shooting down towards his thigh. "Woah, wait a minute." He squeaked. "I, I..."

"Come on Andrew," She smiled wickedly, swinging her leg up around his until she was straddling his lap. "Let's take a little roll in the hay." She purred, picking up a clump of hay and tossing it into the air with abandon.

Clark felt a piece fall into his open mouth and spit it out. He knew this was all just a dream—and it was not exactly like he had never had an erotic dream before—but this was Chloe. And even though he _did _have erotic dreams about her from time to time—something about the whole thing felt so real; from her kiss, to her touch, to the feelings that were beginning to stir inside him. He hated to admit it, but he suspected his loins were actually _aching _and it freaked him out. "Eloise, I," He began, hoisting himself upwards. Chloe slid to the ground as he stood, but still managed to cling to his thighs with her arms. "Maybe this isn't the best idea." Something flashed in her eyes and she rose slowly to her knees; she reached up his torso with both hands and ripped at his shirt, sending buttons flying as it tore open, exposing his bare chest. _"This all looks familiar."_ Clark thought.

"I love it when you tease me," Chloe moaned, her hands traveling down to the top of his jeans. "It only makes me want you more." She latched a finger through his belt loop and with one ferocious tug pulled him crashing to the floor. At that moment a stray breeze blew in from the adjacent window, ruffling both their hair.

_"Aaah there it is."_ Clark thought with a smirk. He looked into Chloe's eyes, they were staring back at him with such intensity, such fire, that for once he thought _what the hell_. It was only a dream, and he may never get the chance in real life—so he kissed her. It was gentle, even a little hesitant at first, but when Chloe's hands buried themselves in his hair, pulling him closer, and she slipped her tongue past his lips, he lost it. Soon he was kissing with the same intensity, his arms encircling her. He could feel something soft and warm thumping against his chest and broke the kiss to look down; there he saw Chloe's chest rising and falling with every breath._"So that's what a heaving bosom looks like." _

The sight was hypnotizing, and without thinking he took one hand to her frilly top and tore at it wildly until it slid off her shoulder, exposing her creamy white flesh. "Oh Eloise." He moaned as he bent down to kiss every inch of her décolletage.

"Oh Andrew." She moaned in return, her hands working the zipper of his trousers as she tossed her head back in ecstasy.

"Oh Eloise."

"Oh Andrew."

"Oh _Chloe_."

"Oh Andrew—_what_?"

"Umm, nothing." Suddenly Clark felt Chloe's warm body jerk away from him and a sharp slap to the face. Surprisingly, in his dream the slap hurt like hell.

"I knew it!" She bellowed. "You are seeing another woman! Some, some _hussy_ named Chloe!" She clutched the ends of her shirt together, covering herself. "And to think I trusted you, and you lied!" She reached up and slapped him again. "Do you love her Andrew? Do you?"

Clark felt his cheek begin to burn and suddenly felt woozy. The room started to spin and Chloe blurred in and out of vision as the room went black.


	4. Chapter 4

Clark opened his eyes and saw nothing but blackness. He was lying on his stomach, his face buried in the pillow and his arms wrapped up around it, gripping it so tight that it had busted at the seams, sending its fuzzy stuffing into his hair. He heard a muffled female voice calling for him, and for a moment he thought it was Chloe. They had some unfinished business—slap or no slap. But as he lifted his head he saw the loft was now hay free and full of bright sunlight. "Damn." He moaned, rolling himself over. The dream was indeed over—ended at a crucial moment, as most good dreams do. He noticed the book had fallen to the floor, as did his dirty dinner plate, its pages splayed and bent. He looked toward the clock to see it was well past seven in the morning.

" Clark?" He heard the voice again, this time louder, and turned to see his Mom appear at the top of the stairs. "I wanted to see if everything was ok since you didn't show up for breakfast and I..." She stopped abruptly, eyeing the scene. "Did you stay out here all night?" Clark nodded and sat up, picking pieces of fuzz from his hair. "I told you not to pull an all-nighter." She reprimanded, waggling a finger in his direction.

"Uh," Clark mumbled. "I didn't. I was studying and then fell asleep."

Martha's eyes drifted to the floor where the book was lying face up, it's cover clearly visible. "I see—_studying_." She smiled knowingly and Clark felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Well, ya better hurry up or you'll be late for school." She warned, her voice teasing, and turned to climb back down the stairs.

When she was gone from sight, Clark bent over to pick up the mess. He smoothed out the crumpled pages of the book and tossed it into his open book bag at his feet. He couldn't believe that his Mother had caught him with it. Good luck explaining _that _away. But he had little time to sulk; he had to get ready for school. So he zipped out to the house and super sped through his morning routine, just in time to catch the bus as it ambled towards the drive. When he boarded he immediately saw Chloe's head pop around the corner of a seat near the back of the bus, smiling at him. As Clark approached he couldn't help but flash back to his dream when he saw her bare legs sticking out from underneath a dangerously short skirt. He was flooded with the memory of dream Chloe wrapping those same legs around him, seducing him and kissing him and...

"Did you do it?" Chloe whispered excitedly.

"What? Did I do what?" He stuttered, snapping back to reality. _"Calm down __Clark__, she's not talking about the dream." _He mentally scolded himself, looking quickly away from her thighs.

"Did you read the book?"

Clark plopped down in the seat across from her as the bus began to move forward. He unzipped his book bag and nodded. "Yeah." He whispered in return, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder.

"And?"

_"And?" _

"What did you think of it?"

"Well, it was," Clark paused as he slipped the book covertly into her hands. His fingertips brushed lightly against hers and a tingly sensation shot up his arm as he remembered what they were doing the last time they had touched. Well, in his dream at least. "_Interesting_." Clark turned to look out the window to hide the satisfied smirk that was creeping across his face

Chloe looked genuinely thrilled at this and inched forward towards him. "Really? What part did you like the best?"

Clark knew this was a dangerous question if was to be completely honest. Instead he looked her square in the eye and lied. "Um, I liked the rich period setting." Chloe eyed him strangely, as if not expecting such an answer. "Um, it really made me feel like I was there." Clark added, trying his best not to laugh.

"Really?" She smiled. "I would have thought you'd say the _hot sex_."

Clark began to choke, coughing nervously, and suddenly Pete's head popped up from the seat behind Chloe. He looked mildly interested but he was fixed intently on the portable gaming device in his hands. "Did I hear someone say _hot sex_?" It was obvious he hadn't heard any of the previous conversation, and Clark was ready to dismiss it when Chloe opened her mouth.

"Yes, I was talking about "_Pastures of Passion_." She smiled, waving the book in front of his face.

"Uh huh." Pete rolled his eyes. "I'd rather watch Cinemax. That chick stuff is just cheesy, and no real man would touch it with a ten foot pole." He looked up smugly from his game. "Right Clark?"

"Oh really?" Chloe butted in as Clark looked back helplessly. A gleam of triumph sparkled in her eyes. "Well, Clark read it."

Pete looked dumbstruck for a moment before he burst out laughing. "You're kidding me?"

"Nope. And he actually liked it."

"Well, great." Pete laughed, shaking his head. "You two can start a book club or something."

"Laugh if you want." Chloe interrupted, stashing the book out of site. "But I think it takes a _real_ man to read a so called chick book." She smiled and slid into Clark's seat, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. Her lips were incredibly soft, and even though they stayed on his cheek for only a moment, he immediately regretted giving Chloe back her book. He wanted to read it again, right before bed. And this time he would call dream Chloe by the correct name."And I just wanted to thank you for taking a stand against sexism."

That had shut Pete up, and Clark's cheeks flushed bright scarlet. He didn't feel at all like some crusader for equal rights—all he did was give in and read some silly book—but he wasn't about to argue.

"Uh, well, maybe I can, uh, ya know," Pete stammered, looking quite flustered. "Borrow it sometime, or whatever. See what the big deal is anyways."

"Uh huh." Chloe giggled, sliding back into her seat. "Sure."

"I mean," Pete continued eagerly. "I don't want to be sexist. I'm just a product of my upbringing." He reached out and touched her shoulder. "Help me Chloe." He begged, looking sad for a moment before breaking into a wide grin.

"Oh, I'll help you alright." Chloe giggled, whapping him on the arm. "But here, if you do really want to read it," She reached for the book and went to hand it over the seat to him. But before she could, Clark reached across the aisle.

"Hey, before you lend it to Pete, I was hoping I could borrow it again."

Pete and Chloe exchanged looks. "Fishing for another kiss?" She quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Clark fidgeted in his seat. "No, I started reading it but, uh..."

"You didn't finish?"

"You could put it that way." Clark smirked.

Chloe smiled and handed him back the book. "Ok then. Enjoy."

_"Oh I will."_ Clark thought devilishly.

THE END.


End file.
